


#blueblack

by yikesola



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2020, COVID-19, Established Relationship, M/M, mentioned bc of quarentine hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: Phil decides when he’s filling out the Tesco order, and based on his frequent purchases the algorithm suggests colour-protecting shampoo. He adds his old shampoo to his virtual basket and clicks into the other suggested purchases before he can second guess himself.A fic about impulses and aesthetics.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 126





	#blueblack

Memes about quarantine hair aside, he hasn’t really thought about it. Phil’s surprised by the long wisps of hair by his neck when they brush against his skin as they haven’t done since back when they first moved to London. He’s surprised when his hairspray gives up by the end of the day and the dropping quiff into his vision is decidedly brown, a shade he’d almost forgotten after a decade-plus of constant black. He’s surprised by the amount of grey he sees as he edits his attempt at catching a betta fish, uncovered and undyed and so grey they’re almost silver.

But surprise isn’t exactly the same as dislike. He can live just fine with this. And he can live just fine changing it— there’s an unfamiliar freedom, he finds, in feeling ambivalent about changing his hair. It’s so far and away from the anxiety he had to push down further into his stomach as his emo fringe was cut away. 

He decides when he’s filling out the Tesco order, and based on his frequent purchases the algorithm suggests colour-protecting shampoo. 

There’s a solid sixty seconds where he stares at the computer screen trying to sit with the idea that there isn’t any colour in his hair. It’s not like he didn’t _know_ it. This is just a weird way to realize it. 

He adds his old shampoo to his virtual basket and clicks into the other suggested purchases before he can second guess himself.

*

Dan is the one who pulls the box of hair dye out of the bag when they're unloading their order later in the day. Phil hadn’t mentioned the purchase. 

He’s still not entirely convinced he’ll use it. He’s still not entirely convinced he wants to bother with the mess or the upkeep or that he wants to say goodbye to the brown. 

But it would be a change, in this cycle of changeless anxiety he’s been sitting in since lockdown started. So he figures he probably will. 

Dan holds the box in his hand and laughs and reads, “Blue black, huh?” There’s a wide grin on his face. 

“You free this afternoon?” Phil asks. 

*

The first cold slather of due against his scalp is Pavlovian. Phil closes his eyes and chuckles, “God, I missed the smell.” 

“All the sharpie chemicals aren’t enough, bub?” Dan teases, “Gotta fry as many brain cells as possible?” 

“Any that are left!” 

Phil had half-considered making a video out of this. He’d considered whether he could pout enough to get Dan to do it for him _and_ to break his post-coming out YouTube hibernation, but in the end decided just to enjoy the feeling of Dan’s fingers through his hair— gloved fingers and goopy hair— without worrying about what his face looks like. He lets some pleased sighs slip out that he’d be too worried about cutting later to just enjoy, and he’s glad he decided not to bother recording. 

Dan says, “Your mop’s getting so long, you sure we don’t need two boxes here?” 

Phil cracks an eye open and sees Dan’s teasing smile. “Hey, if birdnest uni Phil can get by on one box, so can quarantine quiff Phil.” 

“Fair,” Dan says. He gives Phil’s scalp a little scratch and if Phil knew how to purr, he would be. 

*

It’s more blue than black, Phil thinks as he starts blow drying. Not horribly so, but more than he’s ever managed. He figures it’s because he was working with proper virgin hair— ready to be as blue as it would dare. 

Dan’s sitting cross-legged on the bathroom counter. His own quarantine hair is long and untamed, the curls weighed down by themselves so much they’re merely waves. Phil is reminded of Dan coming over to his flat when he should’ve been attending lectures, and not nothing to straighten his hair after a shower, and smiling in that way he has. 

That easy, existing way. 

Smiling because he’s happy to be around Phil. 

Fuck, Phil isn’t sure when that concept won’t make the palms of his hands a little tingly anymore, but all these years on he would’ve guessed it’d happen by now.

“C’mere,” Dan says when Phil’s hair is mostly dry. He hasn’t added any product yet so the quiff is nowhere to be seen. He steps closer to Dan, who uncrosses his legs and pulls Phil in between his knees.

Dan lifts a hand into the front of Phil’s hair and pulls it in front of his face. It’s almost covering his eyes. Dan pushes it to the side in a close approximation of an emo fringe, as close as they can get without an intentional cut. Dan’s smile widens. 

“Look like I walked right out of 2014?” Phil asks. 

“There’s a few more laugh lines,” Dan says, tracing along the wrinkles Phil knows he has on his face. 

“Well, I’ve done a lot more laughing,” Phil says. He laughs to prove his point as he leans forward and kisses Dan. 

He steps back towards the end of the sink where he’d been blow drying. He reaches for the bottle of sea salt spray, and Dan says, “Why don’t you leave it like that for now?” 

Phil considers it. He does. Briefly. Then he smiles and tells Dan, “Only if you get the old straight irons and do yours.” 

Dan lifts his hands in surrender. “Not a chance! Let that forehead free.” 

*

He spends too long trying to take a selfie. It’s stupid, he knows it. But it’s like he’s forgotten what he looks like with dark, dark hair. Like every angle is off, like he looks like he’s cosplaying himself of the past. 

He doesn’t hate it.

He just hates every selfie. 

Dan notices his frustration as he sits on the sofa beside him. “Here,” he says, pulling Phil’s phone from his hand. After a few tries, a few angles, a few faces, they have a photo Phil likes so much that it almost seems a waste to throw it on an instastory. So he posts it on Instagram and tags Dan in the caption as both his stylist and photographer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/618577881318211584/blueblack) !


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